Until the End
by stagepageandscreen
Summary: With a sombre air Courfeyrac removed his hat. "I will have you know that I am a fearsome and terrible snow soldier." "This means war, monsieur," she warned him, a fraction of a second before Gavroche's next snowball struck her on the side of the head. A snowy Eponine/Courfeyrac one-shot for La Patron-Minette, 100th reviewer of A Different Version of Events.


**A/N Here we have a one shot for La Patron-Minette, the 100****th**** reviewer of A Different Version of Events! *cheering* **

**This is my first time writing Eponine/Courfeyrac (Epiferac?) so tell me what you think. Enjoy!**

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The air was crisp and clear, the ground covered in a thick layer of fresh, shining snow. With relish, Jerome (de) Courfeyrac drew in a deep, bracing breath, swinging at a fluffy snow bank with his cane and releasing a youthful grin at the sparkling powder that was tossed upwards. For no apparent reason he felt peculiarly joyous today; light hearted, unburdened, and simply happy to be alive. Strutting along the pavement, he hummed a tune under his breath, an aria from the opera he had seen the night before. All was good in his world.

"Watch out, sir!"

The shrill warning was immediately followed by a sharp, freezing sensation on the back of his head. The shock of the sudden cold froze him to the spot, heightened when the snowy projectile began a ponderous decent down the back of his neck. A bright burst of laughter from behind him finally broke his stupor and his ire rose quickly, his jaw tightening in annoyance as he turned slowly to face his assaulter.

By all accounts the creature stood before him should have inspired disgust, but to Courfeyrac it invoked quite a different sensation. She was young, looking to be no more than eighteen, although whether this apparent youth was genuine or brought about by malnutrition he was uncertain. She was far too skinny and her feet, bare but for a pair of ungainly looking wooden shoes, were beginning to turn blue, but something about her eyes interested Courfeyrac. They were a rich brown, a dark, warming colour that twinkled at him in unrestrained mirth, the hollowness of her face proving that laughter was not a common participant in her life. She also seemed, to him, to be somewhat familiar but he couldn't quite place where, especially with the cold water now trickling down his back…

At his prolonged scrutiny her eyes grew wary, guarded, and her posture reminded him of a bird about to take flight, a wraith all too ready to slip back into the shadows. Shadows…shadow…of course! That was how he knew her!

He bowed cordially, grimacing as it sent another lump of snow careering down beneath his collar, "_Mademoiselle _Eponine. It is a pleasure to see you. Such a wonderful day, is it not?"

For a moment Eponine simply stared at him as if he had grown another head, then quick as a flash, stooped, gathered up a handful of snow and flung it at him, the shot narrowly avoiding his left side. He spun to find Gavroche, the little scamp who regularly hung around the Musain, spluttering behind him and brushing snow from his face.

"Oi, 'Ponine! That ain't fair!"

"Course it's fair," she retorted, "you were 'bout to push anuver 'andful of snow down _Monsieur _de Courfeyrac's collar, you sneaky little runt."

Courfeyrac winced at her use of his despised particle and then threw a very wounded look towards the younger gamin. "Whilst I admire your use of strategy, young Gavroche, I also find your unprovoked attack extremely dishonourable."

The boy just shrugged, giving a toothy grin, "It would be 'honourable' if ya joined in, but if ya not up to it…" He left the challenge hanging, a challenge the young dandy could not ignore.

With a sombre air Courfeyrac removed his hat, tucked his kid-skin gloves into his pocket, and loosened his cravat. "I will have you know that I am a fearsome and terrible snow soldier. No quarter shall be given. No mercy shown."

"_Monsieur_," Eponine interjected somewhat nervously, scanning the few people passing them by, noticing the curious and disapproving looks being directed their way, "you really don't 'ave to. You'll ruin your clothes…"

"Don't worry, _mademoiselle_, I am entering into this conflict with a clear and sound mind." His thoughts jumped momentarily to another conflict he was involved in, sure that it would end somewhat more dangerously than a snowball fight on a bright winter day, but he swiftly pushed them aside. Now was a time for frivolous fun and light-hearted play. "Hold yourself in readiness, young sir!" he bellowed, gathering his first missile, drawing many startled looks, and a few smiles, from the people passing them by. Before he could even locate Gavroche, however, another freezing projectile hit him on the hip. Eponine stood grinning smugly at him, the mischief on her face detracting attention from her blue lips and shivering shoulders. Feeling a wave of pity swell up in him, the outnumbered centre stepped forwards, mindless of the danger he put himself in, and offered the freezing girl his coat. She seemed about to refuse, but the thick woollen garment, already warmed by his body, was too inviting. With a sigh of pleasure she thrust her spindly arms into the too long sleeves and wrapped it securely around herself.

"This still means war, _monsieur_," she warned him, a fraction of a second before Gavroche's next snowball struck her on the side of the head. The stream of curses that she let out would have made a solider blush, but they merely amused Courfeyrac.

"Alliance?" he offered, keeping his eyes peeled for the blond headed menace that was Eponine's younger sibling.

The grin she gave him was wild and bright, "Let's get 'im!"

The battle raged fast and hard, snowballs flying left, right and into the Centre. Somehow Gavroche had managed to assemble an army of small, skittering street children who laughed and ducked and dodged the snow balls Eponine and Courfeyrac let fly at them. Although they fought valiantly, the two of them were terribly outnumbered and soon found themselves crouched behind a hastily erected barricade of a park bench, some branches and a scraping of snow.

"We're running out of snow," Eponine informed him tensely, all position related formality gone between them in the face of this icy conflict, "We gotta change position."

"I've always like being on top," Courfeyrac winked, letting loose a snowball as smoothly as he loosed the innuendo. A handful of snow down his neck made him yelp in surprise. "Hey!" he protested, "You're wasting our ammunition!"

Eponine simply rolled her eyes and planned their route, her breath escaping in slivery clouds that hung before her face for a moment before dissolving into nothingness. As he watched her Courfeyrac found himself reflecting that if she had the opportunity for a hot bath and a few square meals, Eponine would be the rival of any of the grisettes that he wined, dined and bedded on a regular basis. So lost in his thoughts was he that did not notice the grimy handkerchief being waved above the enemy ramparts until Eponine pointed it out.

"Why are they surrendering?" he questioned, but let out a gasp of understanding a moment later, "Those _savages_!"

Hoisted unceremoniously on a stick was his hat. He had placed it carefully in the fork of a tree branch, well out of sight, before the conflict began proper.

"You are entirely without honour, young Gavroche!" he howled across to his opponent, "The hat has not part in this! Let it go!"

The grinning young face of Eponine's brother appeared. "Sorry," he called out, not looking sorry in the slightest, "but this here hat is our prisoner until such a time as ya see fit to surrender."

"You are a fiend, young Gavroche! A fiend!" he accused, his voice drowning out Eponine's less polite insult that caused a well off looking woman behind them to let out an outraged huff and scurry away.

They returned to their huddled position behind their barricade, drawing up hasty plans for the rescue of his beloved accessory.

"The question to ask in this situation," Courfeyrac mused, "is 'What would Enjolras do?'."

"I don't fink _Monsieur _Enjolras would have gotten himself into this mess in the first place," Eponine remarked dryly.

"Quite true," Courfeyrac allowed, steepling his fingers under his chin in thought. "In that case I believe there is only one thing for it."

"An' what's that?" Eponine asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"A Forlorn Hope," Courfeyrac informed her solemnly, "a suicidal run straight into their fire and hope we can break through."

Fully immersed in the spirit of the game, she thrust a frozen and grubby hand out to him. "It's bin a pleasure fightin with you _monsieur_," she said in a grave tone, "It's bin the best day me an' Gav have had for ages."

Feeling deeply touched by the honesty in her words, he took her hand without a second thought, pressed a gentle kiss to the chilled flesh. "And I have never fought with such a valiant companion before," he assured her, "It has been quite an experience."

"Ya ready to give up yet, _monsieur_?" Gavroche yelled, the hat now placed firmly upon his soaked blond mop of hair.

"United to the end," Courfeyrac swore.

"United to the end," Eponine echoed.

As one they vaulted over their diminutive barricade and ran as fast as they could towards the enemy position. It seemed hundreds of snowballs hit them at once, beating them back, the whoops and cries of their miniscule murderers ringing in their ears. Eventually, despite their bravery, they fell to rise no more, Courfeyrac's limp hand just touching the base of his beloved hat's prison.

On the other side of the grass, two warmly dressed and respectable looking young men were passing by. Both appeared to be medical students, if the excited conversation involving the stages on gangrene was anything to go by.

"I say," one of them said, stopping suddenly and peering into the distance, lifting his cane up to rub the tip of his nose, "Is that Courfeyrac?"

The other adjusted a set of plain wire-framed spectacles and studied the staggering figure wearing a soaked and battered looking hat wobbling his way along one of the paths, supported by a short, skinny female gamine dressed in a too-big woollen coat. "I do believe it is, Joly," he agreed, taking note that the odd pair had been joined by a ragged little boy who skipped around them like an overexcited puppy.

"What on earth do you think happened to him?" Joly exclaimed, seeming keen to cross the churned up snow (it looked as if a battle had been going on!) and see if his friend was injured, "Combeferre?"

"Well, whatever happened to him I'm sure it will make a good story at the Musain some evening in the near future," Combeferre said mildly, "Come now my friend, Enjolras awaits us at the Corinth."

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When told at the Musain a few nights later, the story was indeed a good one. What made it even better though was the presence of a certain gamine girl who, when she had overcome her shyness, had insisted on correcting all of the fantastical untruths that Courfeyrac made up about his part in the saga.

And every time this happened, her new _amour _would turn to her with a cheeky smile and whisper in her ear, "United to the end, _mon amour_, united to the end."

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**A/N Tada! I know this descended into almost crack at some point, but I didn't know how to do this situation in a canon time period any other way. Hope you enjoyed, and please review!**

**Libz **


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